


Short Change Cowboy

by littlelizardtails (dragonfucker)



Category: Borderlands (Video Games), Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, unbeta'd trash written at 4AM, whether or not this fulfills the requirements to be considered badass is entirely up for debate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 02:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10548234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonfucker/pseuds/littlelizardtails
Summary: prompt: jesse mccree being a badass in the borderlands universe





	

“You woke the _wrong dog_.”

 

Nine-Toes draws the last words out with guttural glee. There’s no fear, no hesitation in the psycho’s voice, only a grin that he can _hear_ giving shape to the sounds.

 

That’s fine, though. No one on Pandora shows fear, and the Vault Hunter is no different as his lips curl, baring teeth clamped around an unlit cigar as he mockingly tips his hat to his opponent.

 

“So I’m told,” he drawls back. His right hand falls to the weapon at his hip, and in the next moment, the cages of the cobbled-together arena fall open, and the bandit leader’s pet skags are lunging from their kennels, already snarling for the cowboy’s flesh.

 

He drops into a sudden roll to easily dodge the leaping attack of one beast; as he rises to his feet to face the other one’s snapping jaws, his revolver is in his hand, gunshots cracking through the air as the creature yelps and snarls. Answering gunfire has the cowboy ducking behind the convenient cover of a crate, deftly reloading; when he rolls out from behind the other end of the obstacle, he’s already firing, accuracy hard-won with years of practice placing each bullet with precision.

 

Nine-Toes doesn’t stand a chance against the Vault Hunter, but really, that’s no surprise to anyone but Nine-Toes himself.

 

He shrieks as he realizes how badly the mercenary’s hurt him, and so quickly; he runs to hide while his enemy is distracted by his pets going on the attack once more. That confidence has already vanished, desperation setting in.

 

But running away never even occurs to the psycho; no one who lives on Pandora their entire life ever has any illusion that they can escape death by any other means but gunning it down.

 

So while the vault hunter is dropping poor Pinky and sidestepping Digit’s furious claws once more, Nine Toes reloads the Clipper, and shrieks a battlecry to the sky as he rushes the man’s back, determined to be the killer and not the killed.

 

His final mistake.

 

When the gunslinger whirls to face Nine-Toes, there’s a gleam in his eyes, red and piercing as fire, as warm gushing staining his hands _bloody_ , and giddily he wondered, _had mother ever told him this, that he could see death in the eyes of another--_

 

**_”Draw.”_ **

 

The thought is cut off by the lead that shatters the psycho’s skull, dropping his gorey body to the ground.

 

McCree has barely enough to whip around once more and fire at the skag leaping for him--it’s struck at such close range that the creature’s blood sprays across his face in the instant before its momentum carries its corpse straight into him, sending him sprawling to the ground.

 

Groaning, he sat up, and shoved it off him; raising his left hand, he uses the gleaming metal fingers to wipe as much of the viscera off his face as he can; when he lowers it to inspect, it’s plain that he likely has only made the gruesome mess even worse.

 

He’s not bothered though. Once again, his mouth twists into an amused, pleased smile.

 

It wasn’t the challenge he’d been hoping for, ultimately--the kill had been far too quick to be very satisfying.

 

But there was still the psycho’s boss Sledge to go after.

 

Pandora might be hell to many--rife with bandits, with psychos, with monsters, death waits around every corner to claim another victim. But the way the cowboy saw it, full of disgusting criminals that needed killing, with no law or authority to tell him how to go about it, made it perfect for someone like him.

 

And if there was the promise of rich rewards, whether it came as a bounty on a three-balled freak’s head or as a legendary, mysterious vault, well. You could count this cowboy in.

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be 100 words or less but i laughably overestimated my ability to have any kind of restraint and am actually frustrated because i wanna make it LONGER


End file.
